Across the Pond
by Sue-Drae
Summary: In an attempt to correct the quickly deteriorating standard of magical education, the Ministry has an expert brought in from the States. Despite initial misgivings, Aurelia Lowe is sent off to Hogwarts just before our Golden Trio start their education. Watch as she changes Hogwarts- hopefully for the better- and throws a wild card into the Order's hand in the fight against Voldy.
1. Chapter 1

"Rel!" a familiar voice called patiently. I turned my head towards the ladder that lead from my mock tower bedroom to the hall below. Running a brush through my sun-bleached hair, I called down a promise that I'd be down in just a few more minutes.

Today was a special day. After years of living in America, I was finally returning to the place where my life had begun. In some ways, I was sad to leave the States- I had friends here, and it was here that I'd had some of my happiest memories- but I knew that it was time for me to go back.

Looking around my old room, I couldn't help but feel nostalgic as a breeze rolled through the almost empty room, bringing the smell of the sea to me. The last time this room had been so empty had been when we moved into the smaller house on the seaside after years of moving around and travelling. Now, eleven years later, everything I had deemed worthy was safely shrunken and stored in my suitcase. Any evidence that a young witch had occupied this room had completely vanished, leaving behind what appeared to be just a guest room with a great view of the ocean.

Humming softly, I slipped a coat over my Muggle clothes, grabbed my feather-light charmed suitcase, and descended down the ladder with practiced ease. Waiting at the foot of the stairs for me was a familiar figure.

"Are you ready to leave?"

"Yep."

"Did you-"

"I've checked the room twice, Cam. There's no evidence of magic anywhere." I said, smiling lightly.

Cameron Lestair was the entire reason why I was in America. Cameron was the youngest daughter of a witch and a Muggle, and their only child to not possess any latent magical abilities. She and my mother had grown up just four houses away from each other and had been the best of friends. Even when my mother started school at Hogwarts, she and Cameron had kept in touch. Cameron had been one of her bridesmaids at my parents' wedding as well as the only non-witch or wizard in attendance.

With the war Voldemort was waging against the world, though, it became too dangerous for Cameron to stay in the country. At her family's behest, she followed them to America, promising my parents' that she would visit for Christmas. A week into December of that same year, they'd been found. I was taken from the wreckage by the Muggle firefighters that had arrived on the scene, badly burned and barely alive.

With my parents' gone, Cameron flew out to England. With some help from the Ministry of Magic, she managed to track me down to a small hospital just a few miles outside of London. I had been four and a half years old when she formally adopted me.

I spent almost all of my life with Cameron as my only role model. I had exchanged a few letters with some of my parents' friends, but I never really got to meet any of them. I was just too far away for any of them to visit and Cameron wouldn't let me go before she thought I was ready.

Now, after almost fifteen years later, she was sure that I was finally ready.

I could understand, at least partially, why she had delayed for so long. The educational system- at least in regards for the Wizarding World- was much stronger in America than in Great Britain. As it was, school started much earlier in the States, where we started around seven years old. Great Britain's main wizarding school, Hogwarts, didn't start until age eleven.

Not only did we start sooner, we took different classes in the States. We still had the standard Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, and History of Magic classes but that was where the similarities ended. Upon admission to Melas, all students were tested to see if they had received the gift of Sight. If they did not, it was not even an option to take Divination.

Similar to a university, students, guided by their teachers and guardians, selected a path they wanted to follow consisting of a set curriculum that would determine their later career. Students could take a variety of courses to fulfill the graduation requirements for the vocation they'd chosen and, if they had the time, they could work other courses in. Because of the way the system functioned, it wasn't strange for any given student to graduate with two or three completed courses, allowing them to choose which career they wanted to follow or, later in life, to switch completely.

I had chosen to opt for one of the most difficult courses, Auror Trainee. The course was nearly notorious for the fact that it required exceptional grades in nearly every course offered. There was good reason, though- anyone who could pass the Auror Trainee course would be able to skip over the additional three years of training in order to become an Auror or, if they ever wanted to back out, they would have four other courses completed due to the workload they'd taken as a student. The Auror Trainee program demanded top marks in eleven different topics with passing marks in at least three elective courses.

I nearly had a nervous breakdown with the workload, but I stayed with it. By way of a Ministry-sanctioned time turner and working through the courses I could take over the summer, I had worked my way into classes with students two years older than I was.

By graduation, I had finished the Auror Trainee course, and then some. If I was ever to come back to the States, I'd be able to choose a career as an Auror, a healer, a botanist, a potions mistress, or as an educator.

"Okay," Cameron said, her voice drifting off as her eyes slid towards the ladder. Shaking her head gently, the woman put a smile on her face and gave me a tight hug. "You'll write me often, right?"

"As often as I can find something to put in a letter," I promised dryly. Cameron scowled playfully before her face softened. Reaching up to my face and brushing a lock of chestnut brown hair out of my face, Cameron gave me a sad smile, her expressive brown eyes dimming ever so slightly, as if she didn't see me in front of her.

"You look so much like her, you know... She'd be proud."

"I'll write you as soon as I get settled," I murmured softly, smiling at the woman who'd raised me. "Alright, Cam?"

"You do that," she said, eyes brightening. "And remember, if you ever need anything, I'll be there."

"You could come with me," I reminded her. Cameron shook her head, a small smile playing at her lips.

"I have a life here now, Rel. And you know Elliot would be a mess without me," she said jokingly. "Love her to death, but she doesn't know how to cook anything but ramen."

"Very true," I laughed. "... Well... I guess I'm off. Tell Elli that I said goodbye, okay? And make sure you invite me to wedding."

"Maybe," Cameron shrugged jokingly. Smile slipping away, I wrapped my arms around the thirty-something year old woman. Judging from her sharp intake of breath, I was crushing her ribs but I didn't care.

"I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too, Rels... But I'm starting to miss breathing more."

"Way to ruin the moment," I grumbled, releasing her. Cameron only flicked me in the nose.

"That's my job, sweetie. Now go. You don't want to miss your portkey... See you later, alligator."

"In a while, crocodile," I smiled softly before closing my eyes and, taking a deep breath, focusing on an image of the Florida branch of the American Ministry of Magic. Without so much as a fluctuation in my breathing, I opened my eyes to see the visitor lobby, a few other people already at the reception counter and more arriving through the fireplaces located at the north end or Apparating in right behind me.

The lobby itself was a medium sized room with a domed roof that, through a glass covered oculus, let light hit the black and white marble floor. Large windows cut into the walls revealed the Florida Keys coral reef. As I glanced out of the windows, fish darted to and fro between the colorful coral constructs. A large shape glided over the oculus; looking up, I spotted a hammerhead shark lazily skirting over the large building.

I think that, out of the six branches of the American Ministry I've been to, the Florida Branch has always been my favorite. Layered with spells to repel Muggle divers, it was easy to see fish that would otherwise avoid humans. The glass and stone making up the building had been laced with spells to repel the water and avoid deterioration in the constant waves and all electricity used in the building was generated with hydroelectric turbines just outside of the compound. Stairs and elevators carried people through the eleven levels from which the Ministry was divided.

In front of me was a long counter that stretched across much of the room, leaving enough space on either side for two sets of elevator doors, both closed and shining ever so slightly in the bluish light. On the counter were two small baskets, inviting me to step forward.

I walked up to the unstaffed reception desk and grabbed a purpose card from the rightmost basket on the counter and a pen from the other, stepping out of the way so that the others could get their own cards.

_Visitor Name: __**Aurelia Lestair**_

_Purpose of Visit: __**Catching Portkey 1035961 to British Ministry of Magic**_

_To be Noted: __**Papers to be signed by British Ministry officials with transfer of residence from Miami, Florida, United States of America to London, Greater London, England, United Kingdom.**_

Placing the pen back down, I waited for just a few seconds. The writing on the purpose card faded to nothing and, before my eyes, new words appeared on the card.

_Thank you, __**Aurelia Lestair**__, for visiting the __**Florida **__Branch of the United States Ministry of Magic. Your request has been processed. Please proceed to Level Five: Department of Magical Transportation using this purpose card in the elevator. __**Portkey 1035961**__ will be leaving from the Portkey Office at 08:45 (EST) to arrive in __**Portkey Office, Level Six: Department of Magical Transportation, British Ministry of Magic**__. Note that all international travels via portkeys required wand verification in order to commence. Thank you and have a nice day._

An elevator off to my left dinged as it opened. I made my way to it and slipped my purpose card into a slot next to the doors. Once the paper had fallen through completely, the doors closed and I began a swift descent downwards.

"_Level Five: Department of Magical Transportation,"_ a woman's voice announced as the doors opened once more with another light ding. As soon as I was out of the elevator, I was nearly surrounded with people, a stark difference from the near emptiness of the reception area. Navigating my way through the crowd, I found my way to the proper office. Though I was nearly ten minutes early for the portkey, there was already a small contingent of witches and wizards in the outgoing portkey office.

The office itself was very plain. Facing away from the door were seven rows of chairs, loveseats, and sofas, of which no two were identical, that saved only one central aisle leading to the desk close to the far wall. At this desk was the primary attendant, whose job it was to perform the wand verification and ensure that the portkey was activated properly. A door just behind the desk led, to my knowledge, into a hallway that led to the private offices of the other members of the portkey office and store rooms for both used and unused portkeys. A set of cubbies lined the back wall, with each space occupied by snowglobes. As Ministry operated portkeys, there was no need for the portkeys to be made from pieces of garbage and to have each portkey clearly marking its destination saved a lot of hassle. A number of portkeys were already sitting on the desk next to a brass wand weigher, just waiting for the time for them to be used. As I walked through the aisle towards the desk, glittery snow fell lazily to the River Thames, skirting around Big Ben and the London Eye.

"Good morning," I greeted the attendant, a woman with graying brown hair that looked as if she needed another cup of coffee.

"Morning," she grumbled back, biting back a yawn. "Name and portkey number?"

"Aurelia Lestair, portkey 1035961 to British Ministry."

The attendant opened a drawer in her desk which opened much further than the desk's dimensions should have allowed and pulled out a file under the portkey number. She rifled through its pages for a few seconds.

"There you are," she said victoriously to her papers before looking up at me once more. "Aurelia Lestair. May I have your wand?" I passed it to her, watching as she placed it on the brass scale with practiced ease. The scale teetered back and forth before perfectly balancing itself, at which point a paper slip poked out of the instrument's base. The attendant snatched it up, reading it aloud. "Thirteen and a quarter inches, rowan, with hair from the tail of Re'em. It has been in use for twelve years, correct?"

"Yes."

"Very good." The woman handed me my wand back, taking the slip and stapling it to one of her files, tucking it all back into the Portkey 1035961 folder and placing it back in her drawer, sliding it closed with a resounding _thud_. "Please, take a seat. The portkey is scheduled to leave in twelve minutes." Raising her voice, she added, "Will all parties taking portkey 1035942 please gather all belongings and come to the desk? Portkey 1035942 to Shanghai will be leaving in precisely three minutes."

I took a seat as several people separated themselves from the crowd sitting around the office, all bustling towards the Yuyuan Garden snow globe as the snow within it began to swirl almost dangerously, forming a tiny and glittering tornado amongst the Ming and Qing dynasty pavilions.

After another two portkeys left- one to Italy judging by the Colliseum in the snowglobe, and the other to San Francisco's Golden Gate Bridge- I was called up to the desk once more, along with a trio of older wizards.

"Have you all used a portkey before?" the attendant asked as we approached the desk, drawing a nod from each of us. The woman gave a satisfied smile. "Excellent... The portkey will activate in precisely... Thirty seconds. If you would all take hold of the snow globe. Please take care to not drop it..." There was a brief scramble as the four or five of us taking the portkey all attempted to grip the slippery little bugger firmly. "Yes, good. Please maintain a firm grip on the portkey for the duration of the entire trip. Early release could result in nausea to severe injury and, though unlikely, death. Once landed, please clear the destination zone as quickly as possible to prevent traffic build up. Thank you for traveling via the American Ministry Portkey Office. Have a great day."

I felt a tugging sensation just behind my navel and gripped onto both my belongings and the snow globe that I had three fingers wrapped around just a little tighter. Though I expected it, my stomach turned as I felt myself twisted and pulled along by the portkey. Bending my knees carefully, I landed on my feet, leaning forward to balance myself with a cough.

"Welcome to the British Ministry of Magic's Portkey Office. Please clear the red destination zone as quickly as possible to prevent traffic build up," a pre-recording of a woman announced calmly. "Thank you, and have a nice day."

Stepping away from the zone marked in red on the floor, I took the chance to catch my breath in the unmarked section of floor close to the door as the wizards who had arrived with me collected themselves and left, picking up their conversation on the properties of gillyweed exactly where they had left off.

Following after them, I couldn't help but feel small in the high ceilinged British Ministry. Even their portkey office seemed unnecessarily large. There were more people attending the papers than in the American Ministry, but I suppose that that was to be expected, as this was the headquarters of their Ministry and I had only been in the Florida branch of the American Ministry.

Getting directions from a friendly enough employee, I made my way to level two, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.


	2. Chapter 2

"Are you to say that _this_ is the educator that has been transferred over to us? She's a student herself," the head of the Department of Magical Education scoffed into a two way mirror. I held my tongue, counting down for the fireworks. Marianne Lestair, the department head of Magical Education for the Eastern Seaboard in the United States, was not a woman to cross.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Haversham, but I must have misunderstood. To put it plainly, you doubt Miss Lestair's ability as an educator, correct?"

"I- Yes. Yes, I do," Graham Haversham said, blinking with astonishment. "She's too young to be a capable-"

"And, continuing on that, you doubt my ability to select an educator worthy of your department, Mr. Haversham?" Marianne continued smoothly. "Let it be clear, Haversham, that the young woman you've just finished diminishing is the adoptive daughter of my own daughter. Aurelia, though young, is one of the most capable witches I have met in many years, reminding me strongly of myself. By doubting her, you doubt me. Now. Do you want to try again?"

Mr. Haversham swallowed and I tried very hard to not grin. I had the best grandmother ever.

"So you just want me to ship her off to a school? No headmaster will-" The man paused. "Actually... I know a school that'll take her. But this is it, Marianne! If this doesn't work out-"

"If my plan does not bear fruit within seven years, one graduating class, then feel free to reject any of my future attempts to assist your department, Graham. Though, for your sake, I would continue to keep our conversations private. Your Minister is a paranoid man, and not in a pleasant sense of the word."

"Agreed..." Lowering the mirror, the man looked at me.

"I've got a position for you. As of three minutes ago, you're the British Ministry of Magic's first ever in-school liaison. Congratulations. What that means is that I'm going to send you up to Scotland. There's a school up there, Hogwarts, that is basically the public school of Wizarding Britain. That's your focus. Raise education standards, and you can have my job if you want it. Merlin knows I'm sick of it."

"You want me to... do what exactly?"

"Talk with professors, go over some lesson plans, talk to the kids- whatever you have to do to get higher OWLs and NEWTs out of them. You're a Ministry employee, sent to improve educational standards by any means necessary, though I hope you won't try anything too dangerous, as that would be reflected on me."

"I understand... When am I meeting the headmaster?"

"Tomorrow."

* * *

><p>Headmaster Albus Dumbledore wasn't anything at all like I expected him to be. When I was told that he would be arriving at the Ministry to escort me to Hogwarts, I thought he would be a frail but serious old man who would doubt the value of my education at every turn. I did not anticipate the brightly colored robes, the jovial twinkle in his eyes, or his absolute delight that I would be a member of his staff, more or less.<p>

"You're just in time, as well," Dumbledore was telling me as he lead me to the Ministry's Atrium. "Prior to each school year, the staff get together to go over anything that was concerning with regards to the students and exchange ideas of how to improve upon what we've already done and implement new ideas."

"Is the meeting today?" I asked, silently dreading that I wouldn't have any time to prepare. As if he was reading my mind- a feat that would have been quite impressive thanks to the fact that I took an advanced Occlumency course- Dumbledore smiled almost slyly.

"It is next Thursday. I think that should give you enough time to get settled at the school and acquaint yourself with the professors and the grounds," he said pleasantly.

"That is possibly the best news I've heard since I've come here."

"You only recently moved into Britain, correct? I recall the Board of Governors being rather excited to have an American educator crossing the pond, so to speak," Dumbledore chatted. I nodded honestly.

"I arrived by portkey yesterday, actually. My grandmother didn't give me much warning when she put me up for this position."

"Well, hopefully you will find the area to your liking. You might miss the Florida sunshine some days, but we have an excellently murky lake," Dumbledore said quite seriously, earning a smile from me.

"Ah, but do you have a monster to go with it?"

"We affectionately refer to him as the Giant Squid," Dumbledore smiled back.

I had a feeling that this man and I were going to get along splendidly.

* * *

><p>My first impression of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was that it was a very large, very imposing, and very beautiful place. After arriving at the school via side-along apparation, since I could not apparate into the grounds by myself thanks to the wards protecting the school, I was briefly led around the castle and its immediate exterior by the headmaster. Dumbledore never seemed at a loss for random facts about each tree or stone that went into the making of Hogwarts' grounds nor did he seem to run out of lemon drops, a Muggle candy he had graciously shared with me as I was given the tour.<p>

"Here is where the Keeper of the Keys and Grounds lives but I do believe that he's gone to Diagon Alley to prepare for the new year," Dumbledore commented, bringing my attention to a cozy hut surrounded by delicate wildflowers and grasses. "The forest beyond there is known best as the Forbidden Forest for a variety of reasons. Mainly, though, it is so that the students don't stumble in and disrespect the centaurs living within."

"That's probably for the best," I chuckled. "I actually had a centaur as an instructor for a class on Astronomy and I'm sure that, if he was any less afraid that the blood would stain the grass, he would have run us all through with the next classroom's fencing foils."

"You had an instructor that was a centaur? Did his herd not object?" The old man sounded truly intrigued and, seeing no harm in the truth, I bobbed my head in a short nod.

"Heavily. From what my grandmother told me, he was nearly cast out. As it was, he stopped teaching three years after my class. Last I heard from him, his herd was attempting to domestic the Re'em herd in Yellowstone."

"Fascinating," Dumbledore noted, nodding his head before glancing up at the sky. "Goodness, it's getting late. Dinner should be starting soon. If you'd come with me, I can show you to the Great Hall and introduce you to the other teachers and, perhaps most importantly, appreciate the house elves' culinary expertise."

"That sounds good to me," I agreed happily, only just now realizing how hungry I was.

* * *

><p>I was surprised when, instead of leading me into the Great Hall, Dumbledore took me to an adjacent room. Smiling, he explained that the hall was rather empty when devoid of students so, during the summer season, the teachers still at the school would take their meals together in a smaller, more comfortable setting.<p>

In the antechamber of the Great Hall, the centerpiece of the room was a large stone hearth that provided both warmth and light for the entire room. A highly polished table set with sixteen chairs. Many of the seats were already claimed by the oddest assortment of witches and wizards I'd seen in years.

"Ah, Albus, there you are," a warm voice greeted. I turned to see an unfamiliar witch heading towards us, a smile on her face. She was rather short with messy grey hair that, as I studied closer, had a number of stray twigs and leaves as residents. "We didn't want to start without you. And you must be the American," she said, the smile never wavering from her features. I nodded, a little uncertain of what to say.

"Yes. I'm Aurelia Lestair, but most people call me Rel."

"Aurelia; that's a beautiful name. I'm Pomona Sprout, the Herbology professor here," she introduced happily.

"Pomona is also the Head of House for Hufflepuff," Dumbledore added before explaining the house system. By the end of the explanation, I was more than a little surprised that the school still operated on such a system.

"So Pomona is in charge of Hufflepuff, Minerva is Gryffindor, Severus is Slytherin, and Filius is Ravenclaw?" I asked, looking between the assorted teachers for confirmation. "Okay; I think I've got it..."

As the professors rounded together to explain how their school functioned, I became a little more familiar with each teacher. My goal was to be able to name each professor and what class or classes they taught. By the time I had it figured out that Hogwarts ran on a seven core class system, I was nearly at my goal.

"There are a few members of our staff that we are still missing," Minerva, the Deputy Headmistress, added as I began to gain my bearings. "Rolanda Hooch, for example, teaches first years how to fly on a broomstick and referees the inter-house Quidditch matches but, other than that, spends little time at the school. She usually comes a few days before term begins to ensure that the brooms are all in order but doesn't spend much of her free time in the castle. This year's Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher as well, Quirinus Quirrell, isn't here yet. He should be arriving sometime next week but he's travelling from Albania."

"This year's Defense teacher?" I echoed, curious. With how Minerva phrased it, they hadn't had a stable teacher in some time. Proving my suspicions, Minerva nodded sadly.

"The students believe that the Defense Against the Dark Arts position is cursed. We haven't had a recurring teacher in the subject for decades."

"Thirty-six years, if I'm not mistaken," Dumbledore chimed in helpfully.

"Has there been an investigation into the matter? A jinx like that would have to be extremely powerful; it might be affecting other aspects of the castle and the school without anyone even being aware of it."

"We've had experts and curse-breakers come here from all over the world. None could find anything definitively wrong."

"Was there any specific incident thirty-six years ago that would have warranted someone to place the jinx?"

"None that I'm aware of," Minerva said, shaking her head. I looked to Dumbledore but the old man was humming thoughtfully.

"Perhaps... But it's nothing that can be resolved at this point in time..."

"Why not? For the jinx to be so strong after over three decades, the caster is clearly still alive." At that, Dumbledore actually chuckled, his eyes twinkling with something just a bit darker than mirth.

"Ah, but the trick of the matter is in knowing that the caster is simply out there. I know full well who cast the jinx but bringing him or the actuality of the jinx to light will do nothing but harm. For now we must carry on. I'm sure that it will be resolved at the right time."

Knowing that I was unlikely to get much more information on the jinx from the headmaster, I returned my attention to my task of understanding the school's system.

"... So Hogwarts functions on a seven core curriculum with five electives available to third years and up and and additional two available to sixth and seventh years? What sort of precautions have you set aside to manage the flow of student interest as they progress within the system?"


	3. Chapter 3

By the time of the formal meeting of professors, I was more or less familiar with the workings of the school. I'd been provided all of the information I needed for the meeting from past student marks to the school's annual budget and was ready to present my plan to the staff.

"Good morning, Rel," an increasingly familiar voice called from behind me as I continued sorting through my papers. I glanced around me to smile at the approaching woman.

"Good morning, Minerva." The older woman- and many other of the professors- had insisted upon me referring to her by her given name. "I'm surprised to see you here so early."

"I'm always early to these," she smiled. "I doubt I could stand it if Severus beat me here."

"Well, he does have an advantage in that he lives closer to this room," I commented. Minerva nodded in agreement.

"That he does... So, what have you been working on so diligently? Irma informed me that you've spent much of the past few days in the library poring over numbers and maps."

"I was actually going over the school's annual budget. My grandmother allowed me to help with the planning of a new school in Washington state where the climate isn't too different, so I think I'll be able to adapt some of the plans I wrote out for the Feyan Institute for use here." Finishing the sorting of my papers, I held a folder out to Minerva who accepted it graciously.

Over the next ten minutes, the rest of the staff drifted into the room. Each accepted a folder from me with varying states of interest and awareness. It occurred to me that it was rather early in the morning for a meeting like this.

Five minutes before the meeting was set to begin, Albus Dumbledore arrived last in a flurry of bright robes. After offering each of us a candy- today it was butterbeer toffees- he took his seat, beaming at me as I passed him a folder.

"It is that time again," Dumbledore began, his eyes dancing as if this was the highlight of his year. "Aurelia, would you like to start us off this year?"

"I suppose," I smiled nervously. It was strange to be the youngest person in the room. Here I was, barely an adult and expected to revolutionize the way tried and true professors and experts in their fields taught their classes. It was highly unusual. "To start, I've been going over the budget Hogwarts has been afforded by the Board of Governors and the British Ministry of Magic and, truth be told, found a lot of potential going to waste." I flipped open to the first page within the folder which showed a pie chart and its break down beside it.

"Recently, my grandmother, as the department Head of Magical Education for the Eastern Seaboard, has been working with other American officials in education and had a large hand in the designing of a school in Washington state, a project she allowed me to assist her with. Through the design of the school, the Feyan Institute, we've spent a lot of time exploring what Muggles refer to as 'green energy' and sustainable living.

"Basically, the less that needs to be brought from the outside environment to comfortably run the school, the better. This chart shows how the annual budget, a total of approximately 282,500 galleons, is divided. That may sound like a good deal of money but the school's current expenses leaves very little room. Counting teacher salaries, upkeep of the library, potions supplies, the salaries of the Board of Governors, and the other various expenses the school comes across, only 8,500 galleons are left to spend on improving what the school already has. That's not a lot of money if you consider the upkeep required to keep, for example, the school's training brooms in good condition."

"It's not enough," Rolanda Hooch, who had arrived to the school yesterday, agreed, shaking her head. "A broom isn't meant to last thirty years. I've tried petitioning the Board for new brooms for the past three years but haven't gotten the support. We can't keep using the brooms we have now for much longer. I've already had a few brooms fail during lessons and, if the first years had been trying anything more difficult than levitating, we could have had some serious injuries."

"Which brings me to my next point. While the first chart is your current projected expenses, the chart on the next page is the updated projection of costs for the next year." The two charts were drastically different. "You'll notice that the second chart has quite a few more room in the budget for various projects. _That_ is why sustainable living is so important to a boarding school such as this.

"Your primary cost, I've noticed by looking over the budgets of the past decade or so, has been food. That has not changed in any year that I've gotten numbers for; it is always the school's biggest expense. The reason for that is because this school, while built on a vast piece of fertile property, does not produce sufficient food for the student population and, as such, you are forced to bring it in from the outside world.

"At this point in time, there has been an annual average of 130,000 galleons spent _just_ on food. That is almost half of your budget, gone. To fix that, my personal suggestion can be found on the next page."

"Farms?" I did my best to ignore how much disdain was dripping from the Slytherin Head of House. I'd only known Severus Snape for a short amount of time but it was more than enough for me to realize that he was not at all a pleasant man.

"Farms," I repeated with a smile. "If you'll bear with me, I can explain the whole idea that's been successfully put into action at Feyan.

"Feyan, in terms of student population, is rather similar to Hogwarts with just under four hundred students. In fifth grade, when the students are about ten years of age, they are given an introductory course in gardening and basic farming so that, if they like, they can apply to jobs within the school at the school's greenhouses. There are four greenhouses on Feyan's grounds dedicated solely to food which are staffed by students and overseen by Squibs and recent graduates of other nearby schools. These four greenhouses provide all the fruit and vegetable produce consumed at Feyan with the odd exception of much more exotic foods."

"The students work the greenhouses?" Pomona asked curiously. I nodded.

"As the students are all exposed to the basics before hand, they can take a two week refresher course at any point in the year prior to working at the greenhouses. They are given a work schedule that is flexible enough to safely avoid clashing with any classes, sports, or other clubs and receive an hourly wage calculated based on their experience and quality of work."

"And I assume that their wages are taken from the original expenses for food?"

"Generally. There are a few classes that require a certain amount of hours spent in the greenhouse as a worker for part of the grade, though."

"Where would the funds for building the greenhouses come from? The initial start-up cost can't be negligible. Four additional greenhouses would require space to be cleared and the parts for the structures themselves are exactly cheap," Pomona frowned. I grinned.

"You're right that there would be a high initial cost, but that is not taking in the fact that a business could gain a lot of positive press by at least lessening the building cost for Hogwarts, seeing as its one of the oldest, best known, and most popular magical schools in the country. I've done some poking around and I've found that the best price we can get is 3,750 galleons for each greenhouse, including general construction as well as warding stones to keep out pests.

"As for how the school would afford it, there is a reason that Marianne Lestair is still running the Eastern Seaboard's education after almost fifty years. She's been lobbying American families to support the improvement of educational standards on an international basis and has gotten just under 82,000 galleons pledged already. Those funds are available as of last Wednesday for the improvement of Hogwarts so long as the funds' use receives the approval of both myself and the Headmaster."

"That doesn't settle where they'll be placed; unfortunately, the space near our pre-existing greenhouses simply doesn't have the room for any more. They weren't built with the intent to have more some day."

"Page four," was all I said. After a brief rustling of pages, Minerva chuckled.

"I can see why you were sent." She briefly flipped through the next few pages. "Very thorough."

"Thank you," I beamed. "Anyway, as Irma Pince can attest to, I spent a lot of time looking over maps of the grounds and checking out the area and I've narrowed it down that there is definitely ample space for all four greenhouses. All that's left is to approve the idea. Headmaster, do you approve of allocating 15,000 galleons to the construction of four greenhouses?"

"Happily," Dumbledore consented, eyes twinkling. I grinned and waved my wand, causing the pie charts to vanish from the air.

"Great. Now, for the first year or so, I would personally recommend bringing in an expert on farming. If I can't find one here, one of my good friends went down a more agricultural path. I'm sure I could convince him to come here and teach about crop charming and animal enchanting if the school were to look to expand into that side of farming."

"Crop charming?" Filius asked, smiling. I shrugged.

"I didn't name the course. From what Keith told me, the class was about how to control an interior environment to match a plants need, adapting the soil to different plants, creating artificial sunlight, and making runic arrays to improve plant growth and fertility."

"I'd never thought of using runes in such a way," Bathsheba hummed. "I wonder..."

"So, what is next?" Dumbledore asked, turning to the next page in his folder. I smiled wryly.

"Uncomfortable as it is, course curriculums. From what I'd been given over the past, I don't really have much to say on the majority of the classes. However, there are a few changes I would recommend."

"Such as?"

"Firstly, I'd very strongly recommend separating Gryffindor and Slytherin from taking their practical classes together. If there is that strong a rivalry between the two houses, having them argue over a potentially volatile potion is a horrible idea. I'm well versed in potion making and I've seen some devastating reactions from the smallest of errors."

"We've never had issues in the past," Severus said calmly, as if that were the end of it. I looked at him incredulously.

"Even the slightest mistake can snowball into a disaster when it comes to an art as precise as potioneering. Mistakes happen and just because no one's died yet doesn't mean that the system is flawless."

"I think your point has been made," Dumbledore nodded, glancing pointedly at Severus. "Minerva, would you see that the timetables are changed in accordance?"

"I'll have time tomorrow afternoon," she said. "Next, Aurelia?"

"Hire a proper History of Magic teacher. While the idea of a ghost teaching a course is fascinating, you can't overlook the fact that, as a ghost, Binns has become detached to the importance of more recent events. If what I've been told is to be understood, that his lessons are largely about goblin and giant wars, then students are missing a large chunk of history. A lot has happened, especially in the recent past. Students need to be educated on Dark Lords, especially since you've had two come to power in this area over the last hundred years." I tried very hard not to look too much at Dumbledore, knowing the weight he held in the fight against both Grindelwald and Voldemort. "And the fact remains that history scores have been steadily decreasing since his death. There has to be some sort of correlation."

"I've been saying that for years," Minerva said, looking almost sharply at the headmaster.

"Perhaps, if he still has such an interest in teaching, you could recommend starting an extra-curricular study group for interested students?" I suggested. Dumbledore nodded slowly, considering it. "Either way, it's likely too late to find someone for at least the first term. I would suggest beginning to look, though. Perhaps having someone new start after the winter holidays would suffice."

"My son-in-law studied history," Minerva commented. "Perhaps he knows someone who will be interested. Who knows, he might want to look into the possibility."

"George?" Dumbledore questioned. When Minerva nodded, the headmaster hummed thoughtfully. "Yes, I suppose it is time... If you would have him contact me, I'd be happy to consider it."

"I'll tell him as soon as I can." Minerva smiled warmly, clearly liking the possibility of having family so close. That finished, Dumbledore looked back to me. Taking the hint, I carried on.

"The next thing I wanted to discuss would be my own position here. Technically, I'm the Ministry's in-school liaison but Mr. Haversham gave me reign to do whatever I thought needed to be done to raise educational standard." I could almost feel the rise in tension as the staff collectively tried to understand what I was saying. "If you'd allow me, I'd like to start a few more clubs here at the school. I've found that having students how to constructively use their time and energy helps keep them out of trouble and gets them more interested in what they're learning in the classroom."

"What are you suggesting?"

"I was thinking that, since I don't have a formal class, I could offer my services in different clubs. To start, I was thinking of two or three additional clubs: Botany, Domestic Spellwork, and Technology. In the States, Potions was first taught through Botany which explained where different ingredients derived from and how they reacted with others to make a single cohesive potion. I realized that, as you don't have the luxury of time that we have seeing as we start educating much younger, that you have to teach Potions straight away instead of explaining _why_ they work."

"It's true," Severus acknowledged grudgingly. "I've noticed that most students lack the intuition required to understand the potion's mechanics and simply carry out the instructions to the best of their ability."

"Which is unfair but unavoidable if you wish to complete the curriculum you have in seven years," I added. "Perhaps having an hour or so a week dedicated to the mechanics of the ingredients, the students would have a stronger grasp on the core nature of the subject and find that it comes easier to them."

"I don't have a disagreement with it," Severus nodded. I sighed.

"Couldn't you just say that you like the idea and hope that it will save you any number of headaches from listening to first years cry as their cure for boils start to burn?" I asked quickly before my nerve could get away from me. Severus only looked at me with a single eyebrow arched.

"Headaches? Crying first years is the best part of the job," he assured me smoothly. I could only shake my head at him.

"Moving on," I grumbled before continuing, louder. "Domestic spells was another class that was a required one-year course to prepare students to moving out of their parents' homes and living alone. It was mostly garnered towards muggleborns who didn't have parents' to teach them basic household spells but it was a useful way to strengthen the more domestic skills of everyone."

"That sounds like a good idea," Aurora Sinestra commented, laughing under her breath. "I had to teach Septima how to clean dishes when we first graduated."

"You didn't have to teach me anything," the Arithmancy teacher shot back a little defensively. "I was only confirming my own knowledge of the spell."

"Yes. Just like Fred Weasley was looking at James Stannis' test to make sure James had the correct answer written down." I wasn't sure who Fred Weasley was, but the other professors all did. All, with the exception of Severus, showed various signs of amusement. Dumbledore smiled at mention of the boy.

"Fred and George Weasley are the ones you'll have to look out for," Aurora said to me with a laugh. "They're the biggest troublemakers in the school."

"And in my House," Minerva lamented quietly. "The points I've lost because of those two... And they'll only be in their third year this year. I'll have them for another four years."

"That sounds like another four years they'll hand me the Cup." Severus, perhaps being more animated than I'd ever seen him, actually grinned. It was a snide grin, yes, but he grinned.

Minerva grew red in the face and I knew that it was likely going to turn to a duel if no one intervened. I spoke up just as Minerva shifted her weight as if to stand.

"But yes. Domestic spellwork," I said loudly. "It's not required here, but I think it should be made available to the muggleborns and anyone else willing to make their homelife a bit easier for themselves."

"A good idea," Aurora repeated.

"And lastly, at least for now, Muggle Technology. I realize that Hogwarts is built onto intersecting ley lines, rendering most Muggle Technology useless, but I think it's important for us as witches and wizards to understand even the basics of their technology.

"My godmother is a Squib and exposed me to the things that Muggles have accomplished through technology and it's really quite magic, they've invented some really spectacular things. Instead of charms to wash dishes, they have machines for that. They have cell phones, small portable communication devices that you can use over huge distances. Devices that can store and play massive libraries of music but still fit in your hand. Even mundane things you wouldn't think about it.

"There is one example of that I've never understood. This is the twentieth century, almost the twenty-first. Why the hell is the British Wizarding community still using quills?" In all seriousness, I had never understood that. (A/N: But really! Why can't Hogwarts just get with the times?) "Pens are _remarkably _easier. There's much less mess, especially since there's no risk of spilling a bottle of ink all over your nearly finished four page essay on powdered moonstone, not to mention that you can carry them around without fearing that they'll snap in half.

"And parchment? Bound notebooks? Isn't it easier to invest in binders and lined paper? Honestly. You've made your life so much more difficult. Oh, I could go on and _on_ about this. My point, however, is that Muggles have a lot of inventions that _we_ could benefit from."

"I can tell you're very passionate about this," Dumbledore noted with more than a hint of amusement. I tried to resist the blush that threatened to rise but I doubted that I was successful. "Perhaps you could look into ways of introducing Muggle technology. I do believe I've heard of _pens_ before and I think you have a point."

"Sorry," I apologized, more than a little embarrassed at my outburst. "It's just a bit of a culture shock still. I grew up with a lot of Muggle technology in the house so to come here where people are still writing with _quills_ is a bit jarring," I explained wryly. "In any case, there were a few other things I wanted to talk about.

"From the schedules I had Minerva show me and from my understanding of your system, the second years have one fewer class relative to the other years seeing as first years take flying lessons and third years and up have elective options. What if the schedules were organized so that the students shift between the elective classes taking a different course for the first five months of school and then pick one for the remainder of the year? That way, when it comes time for them to chose their third year elective, they already have a grasp on the class's structure and how taking each course would affect their careers."

"It's worth considering... Since the schedules will have to be reworked to separate Gryffindor and Slytherin anyway, would you like me to see if the electives can be arranged to accommodate the second years' classes?" Minerva asked, looking towards Dumbledore.

"If it can be easily done, we'll consider it but we can't ignore the increased workload that will make for the elective professors."

"I'm sure we'll be fine," Bathsheba shrugged. "What's one more grade?"

"And lastly, I want every student to be tested for Sight. It's not a difficult process and it's one that's mandatory in the States," I informed the assembled professors, looking directly at Sybil. "Sight _is_ a gift, but not one many people have."

"It's good that someone appreciates that," the Divination professor sniffed, looking none-too-subtly towards Minerva. I nodded in acknowledgement before continuing.

"My point is that, when I was seven years old, I was tested for Sight. I was told that I have a nine percent chance of tapping into my Inner Eye. Due to my low score, Divination wasn't even an option for me to take, nor should it have been. If one doesn't possess Sight, Divination is not a class they should take. I think that students should be tested and, if they have a seventy percent chance or higher, then they should encouraged to take the course. If between forty and sixty-nine, the course should be allowed. Any lower than that, though, and the class shouldn't be an option."

"You were given a nine percent chance?" Minerva asked, amused. I chuckled.

"I was told that I have an incredible gift to see exactly where I am and not an inch further. I was one of the lowest scoring students for Sight in my school. Only one kid, a couple years younger than me, broke my record with a seven percent chance."

"It is true that those without Sight have deemed it appropriate to participate in my lessons," Sybil noted absently. "It is sad, sad indeed, to watch the Sightless stumble along, blind to their surroundings..."

"How is the testing done?" Dumbledore asked curiously.

"The American Ministry has a select group of Seers that charm paper for it. The paper itself is a trade secret but it's made largely of different herbs and flowers meant to bring out the Inner Eye. The student in question would write their name and something about them that they knew to be true and, when they were finished, the papers would be burned in front of the class. The smoke would turn from dark grey to violet and shape itself into a number representing the likelihood of Sight."

"Something they knew to be true? What does that mean?"

"It depends. From what I understand, it is what activates the charm on the paper and acts as an anchor to the student after it's out of their hands." I chuckled. "I think I should have scored a lot higher on that, for the record."

"What did you write?" Minerva asked curiously.

"I wrote down that I had two moms. Originally, I meant that when my birth parents died, my godmother took me in but my godmother just got engaged to her female partner. So really, I _did_ predict the future fairly accurately."

Again, everyone but Severus chuckled or, at the very least, smiled.

"Well, now that Aurelia has finished, does anyone have anything to add?" Dumbledore asked, bringing us back on track.


	4. Chapter 4

Time passed in strange ways at Hogwarts. Some days went by in a blink, others tended to drag on and on. Shortly before term, however, I was invited to meet with Hagrid when he next went to Diagon Alley. From what I gathered, Hagrid was guiding a Muggle-raised student around to get his school things and Dumbledore thought I might appreciate a more thorough tour of the ever-busy street than what I had been afforded on my first and only visit through the winding street.

And so, I found myself in the Leaky Cauldron nursing a butterbeer at the bar. After a few false alarms, I heard the door open and turned to see the increasingly familiar shape of Hagrid as he stepped into the bar. A little boy trailed in his shadow, all but clinging to Hagrid's side.

As Hagrid and the boy approached, Hagrid was given a very friendly greeting by the bar's inhabitants, all of which seemed to know him closely. Even Tom, the old bartender, reached for a glass as he came closer.

"The usual, Hagrid?" Tom offered. Hagrid shook his head, his mane flying about behind him before settling down.

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts' business," Hagrid explained casually, clapping a massive hand on the small boy's shoulders. I could see the small boy all but buckle under Hagrid's hand but the half-giant didn't seem to notice. Tom's eyes widened.

"Good Lord- Is this- It can't be," Tom breathed, his eyes wide as he examined the boy. Curious, I examined him further. At a glance, the boy wasn't anything very spectacular. His clothes were more than a little big for him, making him seem even skinnier than he was. His dark hair was messy over his eyes and his round glasses had little smudges of dirt obscuring them, almost dimming the vivid green of his eyes. I thought he was just a normal kid.

Then I noticed his forehead.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back," Tom greeted, skirting around the bar with surprising agility so that he could firmly shake Harry Potter's hand. At Tom's greeting, everyone in the tavern seemed to get up, eager to get at the Boy Who Lived. Seeing his discomfort, I frowned as Harry tried to hold his own against the surging crowd.

"Hagrid," I called over the noise. The Keeper turned his head, his eyes finding me quickly. He smiled brightly.

"Ah, Rel! There you are," he exclaimed. He put his hand back on Harry's shoulder and began guiding the boy out of the crowd. "Really must get on. Lots to buy an' such. Come on, Harry."

I followed the two into the walled courtyard where Hagrid grinned at Harry.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. An' there's one more person here to meet yeh," Hagrid said, holding his hand out towards me. I smiled at Harry, holding out my hand.

"Don't worry, kid. I won't be asking for your autograph any time soon," I chuckled. "My name is Rel Lestair. I'm one of the new staff at Hogwarts."

"Rel's the in-school liaison for the Ministry o' Magic," Hagrid informed Harry. I noticed how the boy looked at me with something akin to caution before shaking my hand firmly.

"It's nice to meet you, Miss Lestair."

"Please, just call me Rel. I'm not a teacher." Harry's brow furrowed.

"Your accent-"

"Is American," I finished with a shrug. "But I'm the best one the Ministry could send to Hogwarts."

"Rel's already changing things 'round the school. Fer the better, mind yeh," Hagrid said a little quickly as he pulled out his umbrella. "Now which brick was it... Three up... two across?"

"Changing things?" Harry asked curiously. I nodded with a wry smile.

"Probably nothing you'd find interesting. I'm mostly redesigning the budget right now. I'm adding a few new clubs to the school's list, though, and I hope you'd try them out. The ones I'm leading are all practical so you can get a bit more comfortable with your magic."

The stones in front of us moved as Hagrid pulled his umbrella away from the wall. Out of a small whole grew a large archway that we stepped through. I made sure to look at Harry's face as he took in the wonder of Diagon Alley.

* * *

><p>I flanked Harry as Hagrid parted the crowd ahead of us, making sure that the boy didn't fall behind or fall prey to over-curious eyes. As we walked from the Leaky Cauldron's entrance to Gringotts, Harry shifted between staring at the surrounding shops and people with amazement and pelting Hagrid and I with questions about Hogwarts.<p>

When we finally reached Gringotts, Hagrid and I exchanged a weighted glance. At this point, we would part temporarily. I would go with Harry to his vault and Hagrid would go wherever he needed to go for Dumbledore's errand. We would meet up later at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour but, until then, we'd separate.

"'Right well, Harry, we're gonna part for a bit," Hagrid said with a decisive nod. "Rel's gonna take yeh down to yer vault and to get yer robes for school."

"Okay... But where are you going?"

"Hagrid's got some errands to run before term begins," I answered quickly, sending a sharp glance towards Hagrid. The half giant had swelled with pride before deflating rather quickly.

"Er, yeah. So yeh've got his key, Rel?"

"Still here," I said, fishing it out of the small messenger bag I'd taken to carrying around. The small golden key glinted in the light.

"Good. Well, I'll be seeing yeh later, Harry," Hagrid said with a smile before disappearing off. He'd wait until Harry and I were in the tunnels before heading in himself to go to whatever vault Dumbledore had ordered. When he was out of sight, I guided Harry to the row of teller-like desks.

"I hope you don't mind, Harry, but I have an errand of sorts to get through myself... Good morning," I greeted a free goblin. Trying to remember what I was taught in Magic Relations, I shifted slightly to bare my neck to the goblin. The goblin nodded, a small smile twisted by his feral features into something a little more menacing, at the gesture of trust. "I'm to escort Mr. Harry Potter to his vault. And I'll need to arrange for a Legacy for the Lowe family."

"A legacy?" Harry asked, brow furrowed with confusion. I glanced down at him.

"Legacy with a capital 'L.' It's a sort of blood test that is unique only to the goblins. Nowadays it's used to reopen old vaults, ones that have either been forgotten or have had the lineage lost. For me, it's been over ten years since my family vault has been opened so it's been sealed, as per Gringotts regulation."

"So you need to prove that it's your family's vault before you can access it?"

"Exactly," I confirmed. I looked back at the goblin who was frowning thoughtfully.

"I shall have someone check to see the availability of Head Ragnok. Only he has authorization to perform a Legacy."

"That's understandable. Thank you for your assistance."

As luck would have it, Ragnok was available to perform the Legacy that very afternoon, surprising me. I had expected to have to come back in a few weeks, a month at the latest, so one could imagine my surprise when a goblin named Griphook came to summon Harry and I to the Head Goblin's public office.

The office was almost empty but everything about it screamed wealth. From the white and black marble columns and walls to the rich red carpeting to the gold inlay along the walls, the ceiling, and the highly polished ebony furniture. Standing beside the large black desk near the the center of the room was the Head Goblin himself. Next to neatly stacked piles of paperwork on the desk was a cloudy white crystal bowl and a rounded glass flask filled with a dark red-violet potion lying on a white cloth.

At the sound of the door closing, the goblin turned and I smiled brightly.

"Good morning, Miss Lestair," the goblin greeted pleasantly. "I am the Head of Gringotts; my name is Ragnok."

"Good morning to you as well, Mr. Ragnok. I ask that you call me Aurelia, though. No need for such formality with me," I smiled, holding my hand out to the goblin. Again, I shifted to bare my neck. The goblin gave a toothy smile.

"Then you must call me Ragnok," he said, shaking my hand firmly before looking towards Harry. The boy jerked as if shocked, remembering his manners. He held out his hand to the goblin.

"I'm Harry Potter- Just Harry, please. It's nice to meet you, sir."

"It is nice to meet you as well, Harry," the goblin assured the boy before looking to me. "So, Aurelia, I have been told that you have a request for a Legacy to be performed."

"I have. I understand that it is the policy of Gringotts to seal a vault after ten years of inactivity and it was unnecessary to attempt to use the funds while I was abroad."

"Very well. We can begin the procedure now if you like," he said, gesturing to the bowl and potion beside him. I nodded.

"That will do nicely."

"Wonderful. All that is required is a drop of your blood," he said as if he needed to warn me. I nodded in understanding as he picked up a small silver needle from the white cloth on his desk. I took the needle when he offered it to me, explaining the process briefly.

Steeling my nerve, I took the needle and pricked my left index finger, squeezing the area with my other hand until a single drop of crimson liquid welled up and fell from my fingertip to the crystal bowl. It streaked slowly as it fell down the lip of the curved surface.

Content, Ragnok lifted up the potion and, chanting quickly in what I knew to be Gobbledegook, poured in the entire flask of potion into the crystal bowl. As the potion touched my blood, it frothed and foamed, turning from red-violet to a darker crimson color. When the color began to brighten again, the goblin, still chanting, took a blank piece of paper from his desk and dropped it into the bowl. The paper seemed to disintegrate on contact with the mixture but Ragnok continued to chant. Then the potion released a white flash of light so bright I was blinded. When the spots left my vision, all that was left in the bowl was the piece of paper, whole once more. Ragnok looked winded but he did not hesitate to reach into the bowl, snatch up the paper, and give it to me to read first.

I studied the paper, unsure of everything it would tell me.

**Birth-Name:** _Aurelia Elizabeth Lowe_

**Date of Birth:**_ October 10th, 1973_

**Father:** _Terrence Patrick Lowe_

**Mother:** _Elizabeth Josephine Lowe (nee Davis)_

**Titles:** _Lady Lowe, Lady Davis_ (Disputed)

**Gifts:** _Animagus_ (Realized)_,_ _Parselmouth_ (Realized)_, Ley Link_

**Discovered Blocks:** _Ley Link Suppression_ (Set by Marianne Lestair, December 21st, 1978, Partially Broken by Aurelia Lowe, October 10th, 1990)

**Additional Notes:** _Goddaughter of Cameron Lestair_

I looked up from the paper to see Harry and Ragnok both looking at me with interest. I hummed, holding out the paper for Harry and Ragnok to see. I wasn't overly shocked by what I was told by the Legacy; I knew of all but the unrealized animagus gift. Everyone had the ability to become an animagus through rigorous training but it became much easier to actually become one if you possessed a natural inclination to the art.

"I can arrange for the Lowe ring to be brought to you after you and Harry have visited your vaults, but your claim on the Davis family is disputed. You may have access to the vault, as the Legacy has determined your claim, but there is someone with a stronger claim over the ladyship."

"That's fine."

"Then that is all I can provide for the Legacy. Is there anything else you require of me?"

"I actually do have a request to make of you. If I remember correctly, there are several goblin-made artifacts within the Lowe vault. Would you be able to identify the smiths? I would like to return or repay the families for their work."

I knew that it was a bad idea to be on the wrong side of the people handling your money. The familial rings of the oldest families were special, as their very creation had been part of a mutual treaty with each family that arranged for the repayment for the rings when a new lord or lady took control over a house. The goblin-made trinkets in my vault, however, would likely leave a bad impression.

Ragnok looked pleased with my request. He stepped around to his desk and withdrew a sheet of paper, seizing a quill from his desk and writing out a quick message. He folded the message and, biting his thumb with one of his sharp fangs, drew a thin line of blood across the parchment.

"If you hold true to your word, Aurelia, I shall not forget."

Harry looked more than a little confused at the exchange and I smiled wryly, recalling that he had been raised by Muggles.

"Goblins have a different culture when it comes to things such as inheritance," I quickly explained to Harry. "If an object is goblin made and a wizard buys it, it is considered by the smith who forged it to only belong to that wizard. For the wizard to then pass it on to his children without paying the smith or his family additionally... It's no better than theft."

"It is strange to see a witch speaking of our culture as if it were her own," Ragnok said, his tone carefully casual. In this subject, I could offend him easily but it was a necessary risk that would hopefully pay off. Harry needed to be instructed.

"Young Harry was raised outside of the wizarding world. For him to be able to live in it successfully, he should understand and respect the differences between our peoples' beliefs and cultures."

Once more contented by my response, Ragnok rang a bell. After just a few more minutes, Griphook returned to the office. Ragnok gave him the letter he had written with a significant glance towards me.

"Griphook, please escort Mr. Potter and Lady Lowe to their vaults. When they are finished, return them here so that the Lady may receive her familial ring."

"Yes, sir." Griphook bowed deeply before turning to Harry and I. "Follow me, please."


	5. Chapter 5

Harry and I followed obediently, staying close to the goblin's side as he led us out of the office, down the corridor and back into the main hall before opening a door to reveal a narrow stone passageway with metal tracks inlaid in the floor, reminding me strongly of the mine my seventh grade class had toured in Pennsylvania.

Griphook whistled sharply and, after just a moment's delay, a small cart came rushing out of the darkness towards us on the track. We all got in and, the moment Griphook touched the side with his long fingers, we were off at breakneck speed taking sharp turns and forks through the underground maze that was Gringotts' inner levels.

I wasn't overly surprised at the complexity of the underground maze since there was a Gringotts branch under the major cities in the States but it was interesting to compare. Each branch was different, having been dug into different terrains. A big difference, as I caught a glimpse of what must have been dragonfire, was the security measures.

We went deeper and deeper, passing an eerily glowing underground lake.

"I never know," Harry shouted over the rush wind. "What's the difference between stalactites and stalagmites?"

"Stalactites hold on tight to the ceiling and stalagmites might reach the top of the cavern one day," I recalled from the seventh grade tour.

Eventually we slowed to a stop in front of a small door standing sheltered in front of a small platform. The three of us climbed out of the cart, Harry's knees shaking ever so slightly from the fast journey down, and Griphook opened the door to the vault with the small golden key.

From within the opened door came a great billowing cloud of green smoke- possibly another security measure, I noted- that cleared to reveal a small fortune. Harry gasped at the mounds of gold, silver, and bronze, but I frowned thoughtfully and turned to Griphook.

"Is this Mr. Potter's vault or a trust vault?" I asked curiously. The goblin glanced to Harry as the boy almost stumbled towards his vault.

"A trust vault for the duration of his Hogwarts years," the goblin answered. "The main vault should become available for his use when he comes of age depending on how the wills of his parents were written."

"The main vault?" Harry asked, turning to us with wide eyes. It occurred to me that he might not have seen so much money in his life.

"Yes, Harry. Your father was a from a very old family and, as such, had inherited quite a fortune. As this is a trust vault, it should be refilled to a certain amount at the beginning of each summer. The main vault would have any family treasures, articles salvaged from your home, deeds to any properties the family owned, and the like."

Harry was speechless and I chuckled lightly. I walked up to him and grabbed his hand, guiding him to the vault.

"Come on, kid. Look alive. We've got a lot of stuff left to do," I said, passing him a spare coin purse I'd picked up for the boy. "That'll separate the coins for you. The inside will expand and shrink depending on how much money you put in there but there's a weak featherlight charm on the outside so don't worry about being dragged down by the weight of it. Do you know the money system?"

"Only the Muggle one," Harry said, shaking his head as I scooped up a handful of coins.

"The gold ones," I said, holding up an example, "are called galleons. They're the biggest valued coin, probably a little less than five pounds for one galleon. Next are sickles." I picked up a silver coin. "There are seventeen sickles in one galleon, about 29 pence each. Then there's the knut at one pence. The system's a little strange at first but you'll get the hang of it."

Once Harry was set for the next year or so, we rejoined Griphook in the cart and sped off even deeper now. The cart gained speed as it hurtled farther away from the surface. The stone walls grew darker with moisture and the torches seemed dimmer as we got closer to the old vaults.

"The Lowe family vault, vault 709," Griphook announced as we came to a stop. I glanced briefly at the door. It had no keyhole but, when Griphook brushed his long fingers against the door, it began to melt into nothingness. The doorway was completely dark but I knew that to be a security measure. Once inside the vault, the darkness would ebb.

"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin does that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped there," Griphook said with a feral smile. Harry looked alarmed.

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Griphook's response was less than satisfactory and Harry paled.

Biting my lip, I stepped through the dark portal and found myself blinking almost in pain.

The Lowe vault was magnificent. There was no other way to describe it. I cared little for the massive collections of gold and silver that were neatly organized into columns and mountains throughout the room but I couldn't help but admire it. No wonder my parents had managed to live so comfortably whilst in hiding. If they had this wealth to fall back on...

I wandered through the vault, vaguely aware of Harry's presence at my side as he gaped at the room. I poked through jewel-encrusted chests, ancient mahogany writing desks, and gold inlaid trunks.

Finally, pushing back the flashier articles in the room, I tracked down a small collection of ratty cardboard boxes that, amongst all the finery, looked more than laughable. Even so, I knelt beside the closest box, opening it eagerly.

A million scents rose up to greet me. Once I could ignore the heavy scent of dust, I began to recognize older things- the scent of my mother's perfume, the smell of fresh baked brownies that always permeated our home.

"Rel?" Harry asked uncertainly as I pulled a soft lavender baby blanket from the box.

"This was mine," I said. I wondered if my voice sounded far away to Harry as well. "These boxes- it's all stuff from when my family went into hiding, stuff that was salvaged from the house."

"There's only..." Harry counted quickly. "Five boxes."

"I'm surprised there's this much. The Death Eaters set fire to the house. The old portraits must have been lost but the smaller things... My baby blanket... It's safe."

Under the baby blanket was a stuffed animal, a little red fox that I'd once called Tou.

In the next box were some books; an unfinished family album, a couple old cookbooks, an old Potions textbook that had been my mothers. Flipping briefly through the pages, I recognized her scrawling handwriting as she wrote a pair of initials within the confines of a doodled heart, TL and ED- Terrence Lowe and Elizabeth Davis. At the bottom of the box lay a leather bound journal, one I knew to be my father's. The last date recorded was two days before his death.

After that came the china. My maternal grandmother had coached my mother on the need for having versatility when it came to dishware. As such, two boxes were full to bursting with delicate plates, saucers, tea cups, bowls, the whole set. I'd never cared much for ornate dishes- they were too easily broken and too difficult to replace exactly- but I was happy to have them.

The last box had what I was looking for. Beneath an autographed poster of a rock and roll band I'd never heard of were a number of small boxes. Opening each with care, I discovered my parents' wands and, next to them, their wedding rings. I glanced around the gold filled room and, finding one of the more simple necklaces, removed the sapphire and diamond charm and slipped the rings onto the gold chain. I clasped the necklace around my neck, hiding the rings beneath my shirt, and stored the wands in my bag for later examination.

Distractedly refilling my wallet, I almost missed Harry's question.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly. I looked at him with surprise before smiling gently.

"Not yet... But I will be by the time we're back outside." I paused before continuing. "I made a promise. Griphook, would you assist me in identifying what in this vault is of goblin make? I'm sure you can recognize the craft more easily than I can."

"Of course, Lady Lowe," Griphook responded, bowing his head.

The two of us- with Harry trailing behind- began a careful search of the large vault. At the end of what could have easily been an hour, we had quite a haul. There were two dozen silver goblets, a beautiful white gold diadem, an ornate silver tea set, and half a dozen broaches, bracelets, and necklaces. There was even a beautifully crafted sword buried in the vault.

"I can identify many of the pieces' smith but there are a few that elude me," Griphook admitted, gesturing to the diadem, the sword, and one of the bracelets. "Others at Gringotts would be able to identify them; I'm no expert in smithing."

"In any case, thank you. You've done a much better job than I could have. Do you have the authorization to return the identified articles to their respective families?"

"Yes," Griphook answered, raising the letter from Ragnok. "But I need your express permission to remove the items from your vault. They are, by your laws, still your property."

Griphook's lip curled as he acknowledged the difference in laws and I smiled wryly.

"Take them. I have no need of them and no wish to offend anyone by having them collect dust down here. What do you think I should do with the pieces that cannot be identified?"

"Do you wish to keep any of them?" Griphook asked, pondering it himself.

I glanced again at the sword, the diadem, and the bracelet. I had no need for a sword and the diadem was far too ornate for me but the bracelet... It was a detailed ouroboros stylized into a graceful and sleek dragon. Realizing that I recognized the shape of the Chinese Shen Lung dragon, I couldn't help but smile at it.

"I would like to keep the bracelet. I have no need for the other two."

"Then I shall take those as well. Someone upstairs will likely be able to identify them. I shall also put out a description for the bracelet. For now, it is yours to keep."

"Without payment?" I asked, shocked. Griphook bowed his head.

"Head Ragnok was very clear in his orders. You are showing our people great favor today and we do not forget easily. The smith of that bracelet, whomever it is, would be honored to have you wear it."

My mouth suddenly felt very dry and I could only nod dumbly. Whatever Griphook said, it was I that was honored. Even as we returned to the surface, I kept staring with marvel at the ouroboros bracelet, wondering what sort of ramifications would follow.

* * *

><p>Blinking in the sunlight after leaving the fire lit tunnels, I had to regain my bearings for a moment before pointing down the road to the store Hagrid had suggested.<p>

"Now that you've got your money, we'll go get your school robes at Madam Malkin's."

The store was cozy, for lack of a better word. Even though the store's large windows showed the bustle of activity on Diagon Alley's main street, the shop itself was decorated with plush and half-worn furniture. Warm wood designs were mostly obscured by vibrant and patterned cloths while rows and rows of unused material were stacked along the walls in neat orderly rows. Mannequins displayed some of the current fashions from basic everyday wear to elaborate dress robes. A fireplace was nestled between rolls of velvet but, in the August heat, was unnecessary.

A witch in mauve robes came from the back of the shop, taming flyaway bits of greying hair as she approached.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she asked first, smiled briefly at Harry. "Got the lot here- another young man being fitted up right now, in fact."

I glanced into the back of the store once more and, true enough, I saw a blond boy being fitted for robes by a second witch. Madam Malkin, the witch in mauve, ordered Harry onto a stool next to the boy, allowing for me to observe as the woman slipped a long robe over Harry's head before beginning to measure it to the proper length for his slight frame.

"Hello," the pale boy greeted. "Hogwarts too?"

"Yes," Harry responded. The other boy's eyes darted briefly in my direction and I smiled brightly.

"So would this be your first year at Hogwarts?" I asked the boy. He nodded firmly.

"Yes... My father's next door getting my books and my mother's up the street looking at wands," he drawled, his voice dripping with boredom. "I think I'll have to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I may have to bully Father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

I raised an eyebrow incredulously at the boy's plan as Harry shot me a similar look.

"Well, I wish you luck, especially since you just warned a Hogwarts staff member of your plan," I said with as straight a face as I could manage. The blond boy's face turned a curious shade of white-green and he swallowed uncomfortably, shifting on the stool.

"So who're you, then?"

"When introducing oneself, it is best to provide your own name first. Didn't your parents teach you that?" I asked, amused at the boy's antics. He seemed to take offense but was unable to think of a retort so, instead, gave his name.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," he said as if the name should impress me. I was a little impressed to be honest. I was impressed that such an old family that was perhaps infamous for its powerful and potentially Dark wizards had produced such a brat. "Who're you?"

"Lady Aurelia Lestair-Lowe," I said, bowing my head to hide my smile. I offered the boy my hand, as if to shake his, but I really just wanted to show the little brat the familial ring on my hand. The Lowe ring was relatively simple: a silver band that was littered with sapphires and emeralds with the family crest raised in one place to form a signet. The boy blanched and looked at the floor, forced by the situation to mind his tongue.

"Forgive me, my lady. I was unaware-" The word did not seem very willing to escape the boy's throat. "- That an heir had returned to the title."

"Consider yourself enlightened, Mr. Malfoy, for now you are aware. I'll forgive your lack of tact if you'll forgive my neglect towards proper introductions."

Draco, wisely, did not speak.

"Now then, Mr. Malfoy. You say that your parents are here?" The boy tried not to flinch but failed. Luckily for him, I didn't want to tell the Lord Malfoy that his son was a brat. I'd give the boy a chance for some redemption. "Please, the next time you see them, alert your mother that Elizabeth Lowe's daughter is back in town. In addition, please tell your parents that I plan to host a Yule masque after Hogwarts has broken for the winter holidays to reacquaint myself with society. I shall send a formal invitation by owl, but I would like them to know that I personally extend my invitation and hope that they will be in attendance."

Recovering slightly, grasping onto the offer I'd given, Malfoy put on his best smile and nodded.

"I shall inform Mother and Father," he said, bowing his head politely.

"That's you done, my dear," the witch tending to Draco's robes announced, taking the robe off of him and allowing him to step down from the stool. Remembering his manners, he bowed deeply to me before sending Harry a sideways glance and escaping from the shop. When he was out of sight, I was free to release the laugh I'd been holding in for so long. It wasn't even a quiet laugh or a chuckle. I was quite literally doubled over, holding my pained stomach, from laughing so hard.

"Ah, Merlin, I'd forgotten about Narcissa's precious Dragon," I said once I'd recovered enough to speak.

"Who _was_ that?" Harry asked, still staring at the door through which the pale boy had escaped.

"A future classmate of yours," I said, still chuckling. "He's the son of one of the oldest and richest families in Great Britain. He's not someone you'd want to make an enemy. His family is very well connected."

"So what should I do?" Harry asked, frowning thoughtfully.

"Don't antagonize him but don't stand for anything rude he does. The Potter house was a prominent family, especially during the Muggle World War Two. Remind him why and he'll have to back off."

"But how will I do that?"

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," I shrugged.


	6. Chapter 6

After Madam Malkin's, Harry and I journeyed on to the Apothecary and, while he explored every inch of the place, I arranged for his supplies to be prepared. When I had everything readied, I almost thought I would have to drag him from the shop. With a wry grin, I only needed one word to shake him out of his stupor and get him outside again: _wand_.

When talking to Hagrid about where I should take Harry for his school supplies, he was quite adamant there was just one place to go for a wand. Standy outside the dusty window, I wasn't immediately impressed by the business. Upon stepping inside, however, I could _feel_ the magic in the air as my ley link, suppressed as it may be, shivered awake. My own core was desperate to taste the wealth of magic in the air but I kept a careful control on it.

The shelves all over the store were weighed down with wands- hundreds of them. The narrow boxes filled every available crevice of the room, piling all the way up to the ceiling. This wasn't the work of just one man; this was an inherited business. Ollivander must have been a master at his trade- it was more likely than not that his father or mother had taught him all he or she knew of the trade.

I felt a shift in the magic, alerting me to a new presence. That was all the warning I had when a new voice greeted Harry and I politely.

"Good afternoon." I turned to see an older man with bright, luminous eyes.

"Hello," Harry chimed, coughing a little as he tried to hide his embarassment at the way he jumped.

"Hello," I said with a smile. The old man, Ollivander, crept closer to Harry.

"Ah, yes. Yes, yes... I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter. You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice for charm work. Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahoghany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it- it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Ollivander looked at me curiously.

"I don't believe I've sold you a wand."

"No, but you sold my parents theirs'. Elizabeth Davis and Terrence Lowe," I offered. Ollivander hummed with recognition, softly listing their wand specifications to himself- ten and a half inches, holly, with unicorn tail hair for my mother and eleven inches, ivy, with dragon heartstring for my father- before he held out his hand.

"May I?" he asked curiously. I hesitated for just a moment before withdrawing my wand and passing it to him. "Hm... Yes. I see. Thirteen and a quarter inches... Rowan. And, goodness me... An odd choice for a wand core."

"A Re'em tail hair," I said with a nod. "I possess a ley link. The nature of the Re'em made it ideal for channelling natural magic."

"I see. Was this a commissioned wand, then?"

"It was." Ollivander was apparently satisfied with my response and returned my wand to me.

"Mr. Potter..." Ollivander turned around quickly, suddenly quite close to Harry. He gently raised his hand and touched the famous scar with one long finger. "And that's where... I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it... Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wands was going out into the world to do..."

Ollivander shook his head slowly but, quickly enough to give me whiplash, cheered up very suddenly.

"Well, now! Mr. Potter. Let me see... Which is your wand arm?"

Ollivander proceeded to take a variety of measurements- many of which didn't seem to relate much to wandlore at all- and give Harry a brief overview of what wands he would be trying out. When the measurements were done, the testing period began.

Harry took abnormally long to find his wand, and when he did... Well... I was glad that I wasn't on the receiving end of Ollivander's speech.

* * *

><p>Because of how long we had taken in Gringotts and then Ollivanders, it was very nearly evening by the time Harry and I could look for Hagrid. After fifteen minutes of fruitless searching, however, I decided that it was more important to get Harry home in time for dinner than finding Hagrid.<p>

"It's a good thing I got your ticket for the Hogwarts Express," I murmured, shifting through my purse to verify that it was still there. "You live in Surrey, right?"

"Little Whinging," Harry confirmed with a nod.

"Would it be too much for your family if we teleported into their home?" I asked, just in case. Muggles wouldn't be used to people Apparating in and out of the house; it might startle them. When Harry paled dramatically, I was glad I had asked.

"Definitely too much. They- They're not keen on magic," he admitted.

"Oh, I see. Well, then. Is there a park or something near your house that would be deserted at this time?"

Harry thought for just a moment before nodding. I smiled.

"Do I have your permission to see the image of the park in your mind? All you have to do is concentrate very hard on the memory of the park. I won't look at anything else, I promise."

"You can read my mind?" Harry asked, surprised. I shrugged.

"It's not a common skill to have but there are wizards who can... not exactly read your mind but skim your surface thoughts, feelings."

"Okay..." Harry furrowed his brow, thinking very hard, and I raised my wand.

"Legimens." I was as gentle as I possibly could be, staying in his mind only long enough to get a solid picture of the park. I could see why it would be deserted; the memory was dreary and dilapidated. I released the spell and Harry allowed his face to relax. "Now hold onto my arm very tightly and don't let go."

When I was convinced that Harry was secure, I spun on the spot, forcing the park to the forefront of my mind. When we had arrived, Harry dropped to his hands and knees, gasping and coughing for air.

"Sorry about that. It's called Apparation. The first time is always the roughest," I said consolingly, patting him on the back gently. When he had recovered, I glanced around. Like in his memory, the park was very run down and very empty. Even the grass seemed devoid of life. "You said your family wasn't keen on magic, right?"

"Right," Harry agreed, uncertain of where I was going with this train of conversation.

"Did Hagrid explain to them what is going to happen when you start Hogwarts?"

"Er- Should he have?" Harry asked. I smiled wryly, having assumed as much.

"No worries. He's a nice bloke but a tad forgetful. He's also been rather busy getting ready for the new year. I'll walk you to your house and talk to your folks."

"You really shouldn't," Harry said suddenly. I raised an eyebrow and he reddened. "They really don't like magic."

"All the more reason I should talk to them. Come along, then."

As we strode towards the houses, Harry's expression never wavered from one more appropriate at a funeral than one for meeting his family.

* * *

><p>I rang the doorbell and waited with Harry just behind me. When the door opened, a woman with a narrow face and squinty eyes was appraising me.<p>

"Yes?" she asked brusquely. I would have been offended but I forced myself to remember that I likely interrupted her dinner.

"Hello, Mrs. Dursley. I'm sorry to bother you. I am Lady Aurelia of the House of Lowe."

Her demeanor changed rather abruptly and she opened the door just a little more with a smile forcing itself onto her features.

"Oh, please. Come in," she invited graciously. I smiled at her brightly before looking at Harry.

"Come inside," I encouraged to him. When Mrs. Dursley saw him, she did a double take. I was already inside, though, and she was forced to close the door behind me. "Mrs. Dursley, I'm aware that you might not like to hear this, but I am a representative from the Ministry of Magic- the magical government- and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Oh really?" her tone was rather faint, as if she were about to pass out from shock or horror.

"Petunia, who was at the door?" a man's voice boomed from further into the house.

"Someone to drop the boy off," she called back, her voice sharpening when she mentioned Harry.

"Harry, go put your things away. Your aunt and I will be talking," I told him, nodding towards the stairs. Harry hesitated at the cupboard beneath the stairs, looking to Petunia.

"Go upstairs," she said with a sharp nod. When he was gone, she looked at me. "What's this about?"

"Shouldn't your husband join us? He'll need to be informed on Harry's current state within the wizarding world."

"None of us need to be informed," Petunia said firmly. I raised an eyebrow.

"Mrs. Dursley, your nephew is going to be attending a premier school. Surely you would want to know _something_ about it."

"My sister went to that freak school, Lady Lowe. I know _plenty_," she said scathingly. "Now, I will have to ask you to leave."

"Not quite yet. Harry needs to be at King's Cross on September 1st so that he can catch the train to Hogwarts. Will you or your husband be able to drive him there?"

"Yes, yes," she said very quickly, moving towards the door as if to encourage me to leaving. I was appalled at her behavior. With a new plan in mind, I narrowed my eyes at her.

"Mrs. Dursley, I hope you do not misunderstand me. Harry and I shall be maintaining correspondence for the remainder of the summer and if I hear that you so much as look at him oddly, I will hear about it. I am normally a very patient person but this is a special case. Harry is the heir to the house of Potter and he is currently celebrated as the hero of the last wizarding war which claimed the lives of hundreds, your sister and brother-in-law included. I trust that you will be treating him kindly as such. If not... There are worse things than a pig's tail, I assure you of that."

Before Petunia could think up a scathing remark, I went to the stairs.

"Harry!" After a moment, his head peaked out from the landing. "I'll be sending you an owl with some information you'll need. I'll expect letters back, too."

"Okay," Harry said, glancing warily towards Petunia.

"You've got your books. Make sure you start reading them. Pay close attention to your Potions book in particular. The potions master is a piece of work," I warned him with a conspiratorial grin. This time, Harry grinned back and nodded. I smiled at him one last time before looking very pointedly at Petunia. "I'll know if my letters aren't getting through."

And with that, I Apparated back to Hogsmeade, unable to wipe the smile from my face.


	7. Chapter 7

The reason Harry and I couldn't find Hagrid, I discovered that night, was because he was busy picking out a birthday present for Harry. The snowy owl was a beautiful animal for sure and, with her, I sent my first letter and a little present of my own: a copy of my first botany book. The other first years would receive them when they came to Hogwarts but I was sure he'd appreciate it.

Harry and I exchanged a number of letters over the rest of the break. He was full to bursting with questions about the wizarding world, reminding me a lot of myself. He, like me, had been raised away from the world we'd been born into. I was simply further along in the story.

In terms of my actual job as the in-school liaison, August was incredibly busy. Despite having a large amount of control over the administrative end of the school, it took a large amount of work just to convince the Board of Governors that my extracurricular clubs were beneficial. Muggle Technology in particular faced a lot of opposition but, ultimately, I won out. The funds were allocated to purchase botany books for all of the first years and my grandmother at the American Ministry agreed to share the Sight test with the British Department of Ministries who would then provide the paper to Hogwarts.

Trees were cleared and the ground was levelled in preparation for the greenhouses and, within a couple of weeks, they were ready for the students. Having been unable to find a suitable crop charmer within the United Kingdom, I brought in Keith Priestley, my longtime friend and the only person I knew other than Pomona who was honestly fascinated with dirt and worms.

The schedules had been made and unmade, arranged and rearranged, until at last everyone was satisfied. Introducing farming to the students was difficult to place and, ultimately, the professors and I decided that it was best to push back elective classes and have second through seventh years take a mandatory two week crash course in agrarian studies. After the two weeks, third year students and above would be free to return to their elective courses. In the case of the second years, the course will become mandatory to ensure that the greenhouses have sufficient care though they will be free to continue or drop the class after their second year. The class, already named Agrarian Lore, was all but finalized with the Ministry. Once it was filed properly, experts would be brought in to determine if it could be taken to an OWL level.

For the first years, as they were my ultimate test group, Rolanda and I delayed starting them from Flying for a total of four weeks. While the other years were studying under Keith in the greenhouses, the first years would be with me so that they got a feel for the clubs. Mandatory for all first years, they would be obligated to go to what amounted to two club meetings for each club. After the first two week period, the first years would have to option to take Agrarian Lore or continue attending my clubs for credit. At the end of the four weeks, the first years would be off to Flying lessons though they would have the experience necessary to work with Keith in the greenhouses for money or to start earning credit towards Agrarian Lore and the comfort needed to continue attending my clubs.

The budget had been revised a number of times by both the headmaster and I. Along with the decreased money sent towards food, we took a look at how much the board of governors were being paid. For a board that normally only meets three times a year- just before each term and at the end of the school year- they were getting paid a substantial amount. For what amounts to six or seven hours of work at maximum, each governor was being paid a full thousand galleons while, in equivalent positions, the average wage was about thirty galleons an hour. By correcting the board's wages, we easily freed up over 9,000 galleons.

Another thing that had been revised was the salary of the teachers. Though some of the teachers took a small pay cut, we reorganized the salary system to make more sense. Now there was a base teacher salary of 5,500 galleons a year. If that teacher taught in a core subject, they received an additional 1,000 galleons, as well as if they were the head of a house. That also freed up nearly 5,000 galleons for the school's use.

The end result was something incredible. Instead of the 13,450 galleons that normally went into maintaining the castle, stocking the potions stores, and the miscellaneous fees that cropped up throughout the year, there was a whopping 106,000 galleons left over. That meant more books and better resources available to the library, rarer ingredients for potions classes, and general improvements to the castle overall. The wards to the school would finally be retouched for the first time in over thirty years, the school could purchase new and safer brooms, and- on a note of personal pride- the entire student body was being provided with basic Muggle office supplies for convenience. Pens were coming to Hogwarts!

Then, all of a sudden, it was September the first. The professors scrambled for last minute plans, getting everything ready before the students arrived. I gave final reviews of the books that had been prepared for the clubs' use and went through the greenhouses with Keith, who had gotten an early start so as to have produce ready for use as soon as possible. For the first term, Hogwarts would still rely heavily on outside sources for food but, after that, it should be almost completely self-sustaining.

I had just finished getting ready for the feast- dressing in black slacks with a cream knit sweater, with my curly hair let down- when I ran into the first years in the entrance hall.

"Rel!" Harry greeted happily, waving me down. I smiled wryly to Minerva, who was leading the first years into an antechamber to wait.

"Hey, kid," I greeted, ruffling his already-messy hair. "Are you excited to be sorted?"

"Of course! I was just telling Ron about the ceremony," he said, gesturing to the ginger boy just a pace behind him. I looked at him appraisingly; he was quite pale but I think that was just nerves. When he realized I was looking at him, he smiled sheepishly.

"So you're Rel? Harry's been going on about you and Hogwarts for the whole ride here," he told me. Harry reddened ever so slightly.

"No, I haven't," he grumbled. I smiled at him before looking to Minerva.

"I'll see you inside?" I asked.

"Yes. Remember where you're sitting?" The staff table had a rather firm seating chart, for whatever reason. The headmaster sat in the middle, with his deputy on his right. The four seats closest to the headmaster- two on either side- were taken by the heads of houses. After them, in either direction, were the professors of core subjects with elective professors after them. The other staff- the caretaker, librarian, healer, and gamekeeper- were on the far periphery of the table. (A/N: Left to right: Filch, Hagrid, Hooch, Burbage, Kettleburn, Keith Priestley (Agrarian OC), Quirrell, Snape, McGonagall, Dumbledore, Flitwick, Sprout, Aurelia Lowe, Vector, Sinistra, Babbling, Trelawney, Pince, Pomfrey.)

"Between Septima and Pomona," I recalled. My seat at the table was traditionally left open for Binns but, as a ghost, he didn't even come to meals.

After saying my goodbyes to Ron and Harry, I entered the Great Hall and made my way to the staff table. Accepting the proffered peppermint humbug from the headmaster, I took my seat and waited with the rest of the school for the first years to enter.

As someone who had never been to a sorting before, the ceremony was extremely interesting. It was obvious that the hat had been imbued with a lot of magical energy for the enchantment upon it to remain so strong after all these years. It's skills also seemed to be rooted in legimency, granting it the ability to quickly and painlessly skim the mind of the first years and sort them accordingly.

I didn't really care who was sorted where- though I did note that Harry and his friend both got into Gryffindor- and the ceremony was soon over. Dumbledore got to his feet and the entire hall fell silent.

"Welcome!" he greeted. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

If I didn't know Dumbledore beforehand, I would have thought him mad. Even now, I was questioning his sanity just a bit. After working with him so closely, however, I knew that he was both mad and brilliant in his madness.

The feast was delicious and I knew exactly why the school spent so much money on food alone. The meal was exquisitely made and extremely excessive. It was a wonder the only students weren't obese. Then again, if they had to climb all over Hogwarts each day, they'd need the calories just to get through the day.

After the feast- through which I had a very entertaining chat about various students with the senior staff- Dumbledore rose to his feet once more and the hall quieted down.

"Ahem- just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." I watched as Dumbledore not so subtly looked to the Gryffindor table where a pair of redheaded boys Pomona had informed me were Fred and George Weasley were sitting.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors." No magic in the hallways? I could see the benefits of that if Slytherin and Gryffindor were so volatile.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madame Hooch or their house team's captain.

"Hogwarts is doing things a little differently this year. In the interest of becoming self-sufficient, additional greenhouses have been built on the grounds to grow the delicious food we eat here. There will be work for anyone interested in earning credit in one of our newest courses, Agrarian Lore, or in earning some pocket money during the term. To kick start the greenhouses, all students second year and above will be taking a two week introductory course prior to the start of electives.

"We have two additions to our staff this year. To manage the new greenhouses, we are welcoming Professor Priestley, who shall also be teaching Agrarian Lore. Next, Miss Lowe has been appointed as the Ministry's in-school liaison to Hogwarts. While she's here, she will be leading a number of new clubs. Information about each of them shall be posted in each of the house common rooms, as well as outside her office on the fourth floor.

"And, finally, I must tell you that this year, the third floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Having been briefed just a little on why that particular corridor was so dangerous, I was not one of the few to laugh.

After listening to a rather painful round of the school song, everyone was dismissed and I was free to return to my office. Looking over the schedule that Minerva had been kind enough to draw up for me, I noted that, technically, I had no responsibilities tomorrow. My first real duty wouldn't be until Wednesday when I had the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff first years for an hour and a half. I had already decided how to approach the clubs- Botany first, followed by Muggle Technology, and then Domestic Spellwork last- to give the first years as good a start as possible. Having Botany early would make sure they could stay afloat in potions while being able to utilize the basic school supplies would get them organized for their classes. Washing dishes and darning socks was useful to learn but it could wait.

Glancing at the other schedules that I'd been provided with, I decided to venture down to the greenhouses to help Keith with the first few classes. He might be the professor, but I had to have more than a little knowledge with agriculture to qualify for the botanist degree.


End file.
